


Division in the Ranks

by junko



Series: Scatter and Howl [29]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, way too many original characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 11:14:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4519803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Byakuya's full first day in the Maggot's Nest takes an interesting turn.  Meanwhile, Renji just tries to cope with being in charge of the Division.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Division in the Ranks

**Author's Note:**

> I'm off making up all sorts of people... so you know, thanks for you patience in advance.

The Maggot’s Nest never entirely went dark. Perhaps it did not because they were so deep underground and the darkness would, otherwise, be absolute. So there was always some kind of artificial light buzzing in Byakuya’s peripheral vision, it seemed. He managed a fitful sleep with the pillow over his head. Every unfamiliar sound roused him--and there were very odd sounds in the middle of the night, scratches and moans and even the distinct snuffle of sobs.

Byakuya felt as though he’d only just nodded off when the breakfast claxon sounded.

Ten’s feet were nearly silent when they landed on the smooth stone floor beside Byakuya’s bunk. “Breakfast isn’t going to be much fun,” Ten said. “But we can’t afford to miss it, Captain.”

At some point, Ten had decided ‘Captain’ was the only appellation Byakuya required. Byakuya decided it suited him well enough, and, at least, it was an improvement on the variations of ‘pretty boy’ that seemed the other potential nickname. 

Byakuya got up and followed Ten to the cell door, which had, at the sound of the alarm, automatically opened. 

“Breakfast is the only meal most people get here,” Ten explained as they headed down the hallway of cells. He walked beside Byakuya, his voice low. “It’s disgusting. Grey-grey, so very grey. I keep thinking I’ll get used to it, but I don’t.”

Other inmates shuffled in a kind of loose queue beside them. One large fellow, Byakuya recognized from the bruise he’d given him just under his left eye, nodded in respect. He then proceeded to give Byakuya and Ten a wide berth.

Ten watched this exchange and leaned in, “Useful. Just don’t let your guard down. Trust me, they’re plotting revenge.”

“Understood,” Byakuya said. During yesterday’s fight, Byakuya had learned that while shunpo worked just as it always had for him, kidō was next to useless. He had managed to nearly conjure a barrier, but it had been as weak and wobbly as anything Renji might cast.

Renji.

The other thing that had kept Byakuya awake last night was thinking about their brief interaction yesterday. In retrospect, it seemed as though, perhaps, Renji had contrived a reason to see him. It was otherwise very unlike Renji to kick up such a fuss over something that was, ultimately, very minor. After all, had Renji wished to simply funnel funds to change Byakuya’s situation, he had already been given the authority to do so--as he’d rudely pointed out. 

And, though Byakuya continued to expect something to come of Renji’s threat to move him, so far, it hadn’t.

Renji had seemed--angry?... put-off?...in shock over his hair?--enough that Byakuya was surprised that his wishes to stay put seemed to have been granted. 

They came to what was obviously the mess hall, though, oddly, it looked hastily assembled. Perhaps it was, Byakuya thought. Perhaps this room was normally the common room. Long tables were arranged along one wall, piled high with what looked like Styrofoam bowls. Byakuya watched the inmates take a bowl and line up to receive something soupy from a large tureen. At a distance, it smelled like dirty dishwater.

The smell didn’t improve with proximity. 

Looking at the luke-warm slop that had been poured in his bowl, Byakuya thought he detected a bit of rice. It was uncertain, though it did match Ten’s description: gray, gray-gray gray.

There were no spoons. Apparently, everyone was expected to simply use the bowl to drink up this slop-porridge. Which was exactly what many people did, without hesitation, and without bothering to find a seat. They simply drank their breakfast as they walked to the far end of the long table where they tossed the empty bowl into a garbage can. 

Byakuya knew he ought to do the same, but the smell made it difficult to bring the bowl close to his nose. Academy had taught him that one did not make a show of plugging one’s nose, either. That way led to ridicule and scorn. He was nearly to the garbage. So, as quickly as he could, he swallowed down as much as he could. 

And promptly vomited.

Luckily, he was close enough to the garbage can that he just aimed in that general direction. 

There was, of course, a raucous amount of laughter, applause, and several, “Damn straight, that’s disgusting shit!”s from the inmates. Soon, others started wondering if they’d ever seen Byakuya before. The laughter faded into whispers of, “Someone new,” and then to shouts of “New blood!”

Byakuya, meanwhile, heaved into the garbage barrel with an utter lack of dignity. A detached part of his mind was suddenly quite grateful for his short hair. Even though there was nothing more coming up, his stomach continued to cramp. Finally, realizing the smell from the garbage fed into a vicious cycle, Byakuya pushed off the large barrel and staggered away. 

As he wiped off his mouth and assessed the damage to his borrowed shihakushō, Byakuya discovered he’d gathered a crowd. 

And that Ten had once again disappeared.

He also noticed that, despite what Soi Fon implied, he was one of a very select few actually in uniform. He could count no more than a dozen. They stood out, because most of the inmates wore what Ten had, a kind of simple white gi. Those in white, however, kept a certain amount of distance, very deliberately staying out of striking distance. 

The crowd parted when a man--tanned-skinned with a starkly white geometric tattoo like interlocking scales on one side of his face that trailed down his neck to disappear inside his uniform--stood up. He stepped up to Byakuya. The crowd hushed as he asked a single question: “Deserter?”

“No,” Byakuya said firmly.

“Ha!” came a voice from the back, a short, stout man with a shock of pale green hair stood on a table. He, too, wore the uniform of a soldier in the Gotei. With a broad smile, he exclaimed, “One of mine then! Traitor!”

“No.” 

The tattooed deserter looked Byakuya up and down, measuringly. “There aren’t a lot of options left, comrade. Gotei doesn’t send you down for murder. They give you commendations for it.”

“Oh my gods, issues much?” muttered the traitor. Still standing on the table, he leaned a shoulder against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his barrel chest. Byakuya thought, with his green hair, he looked a bit like a troll in a storybook. “But, Adachi has a point. Former officers divided pretty evenly here between cowards like him and leaders like me. Maybe you’re just not sure which category your crime falls into, soldier. Tell us what is was, and we can help you sort it out.”

Byakuya leveled his gaze at the traitor. “I have no interest in allying myself with either. I still hold my commission as Captain.”

There was a moment of silence. 

Then a long, lanky man in uniform, who had hair as long and straight as Ukitake’s, but was black everywhere Ukitake was white, let out a long sigh. “One of mine, then,” he said, his voice a smooth purr, “Insane.”

#

It was rare that Renji had a headache that had nothing to do with a hangover, but his head was pounding this morning. He hunched over his tea in the mess hall listening to Nanako’s committee’s report and realized that it might actually be stress triggering his pain. Making tactical decisions like this kind of freaked him out.

He really wanted to defer to someone. Preferably Byakuya. 

“So what should we do, Renji?” Nanako asked him. “As you pointed out yesterday, the unseated are sitting ducks. Do we recall them?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, chasing up the last of the monkfish on his plate with his chopsticks. “Thing is, I worry that a recall is going to be the very thing that alerts the clan to the problem. I mean, we send out the butterflies, telling our guys to come back ASAP, fine, but the families are going to squawk at being left high and dry, without escort. Someone’s bound to figure out what happened, even if we’re cagey about it. Then we’ve basically tipped our hand and they could still make a play for our unseated.”

“But they could make it home in time.” Nanako reached across the table and refilled Renji’s tea. “So do we just alert them to the possibility? Make sure everyone is on their guard?”

Renji rubbed his forehead. “What did your committee think was the best option?”

“We were divided,” she said. When the communal rice bowl was handed to her, she took another helping and then pushed it across the table to Renji. He helped himself and passed it back down his side of the table. “The person from the highest ranking noble family thought it was unlikely that any of the families would actually have the wherewithal to successfully capture a shinigami. She pointed out that’s the whole point of our escort. They’re basically untrained civilians.”

“Yeah, but typical noble, she’s forgotten the retainers,” Renji said. “Most of those families have armed bodyguards in their employ. Our guy is far better trained, but there’s potentially many more of them. After all, the shinigami is there as a honor guard, not really as defense.”

Nanako smiled, “That’s what the rest of us pointed out. She was still fairly affronted that we all thought the Kuchiki so war-like, but I reminded her that these were the captain’s own fears. I do think it’s important that she was so put out, though, given her background. It’s a potential reaction.”

Right. Because no matter what they did, there’d be fall out.

“What I wish,” Renji sighed, “Was that it was reasonable to send out seated officers to deliver the news personally and assess each situation separately.”

Nanako, who had been taking a sip of tea, stopped mid-gulp. Setting the bowl down, she blinked at him. “Why couldn’t we do that? There’s only a dozen or so families. If everyone shunpo’d they could be there and back again in a matter of days.”

“Won’t we put ourselves at risk?” Renji wondered. 

“Only if an army appears overnight, which isn’t likely,” Nanako said, looking hopeful. “Should I assemble a team of our fastest?”

“No,” Renji said, “Not fastest. Make sure you send our cleverest, most well-spoken. I want independent thinkers who can read a room, you know what I mean? Nobody who is going to cause more trouble by saying or doing something stupid or rash.”

Nanako laughed kindly. “With those parameters, sir, I couldn’t send you.”

“Exactly,” Renji nodded.

#

“I’m not insane,” Byakuya insisted. 

He had been ushered over to a table by the long-haired, dark-skinned shinigami. He’d introduced himself as Miyamoto and offered a passably decent cup of tea. The tea had smelled so good that Byakuya had stayed, despite the fact that the three other uniformed shinigami at the table identified as ‘insane.’

“You do realize everyone says that. I’m sure, however, in your case, it’s true,” Miyamoto said, sounding not at all as if he believed Byakuya for a moment. In fact, he went on: “It’s rather a pity that you’re delusional, Captain. I could have used another sociopath. Alas, it’s so very rare we get caught out, and, while I hate to play Adachi’s song, it’s true that sociopathy is considered an advantageous quality in the Gotei.”

Byakuya nodded absently, enjoying the warmth of the porcelain tea bowl in his hands. They were the only table with a pot and actual bowls . A very large, sullen man from their ranks had gotten up, walked through a door marked, “No admittance” and retrieved the service for them. No one stopped him. In fact, they had been quite keen to stay out his way and not make any eye contact at all. Even the guards had looked the other way and pretended not to notice.

The big man sat directly across from Byakuya now. Every exposed part of him had some kind of scar or another, and a huge slice had been taken from his ear. His hair hung into his eyes, nearly brushing his shoulders, and was a rusty-blond, an almost red, that, of course, made Byakuya think of Renji. 

Miyamoto noticed Byakuya’s interest and said, “Toda is our jack-of-all trades, paranoid schizophrenic. You could throw in criminally violent, but again, that’s usually considered a bonus skill set in the Gotei. However, I believe Toda remains the only soul to ever be removed from the Eleventh for being too violent.”

“Kenpachi Zaraki found you too violent?” Byakuya asked, in astonishment.

Fiery brown eyes snapped up to pinion Byakuya under their glare. “No, not Zaraki. I've been inside a long, long time. My Kenpachi was a wimp-ass.”

“And yet you couldn’t beat him,” Miyamoto pointed out casually. “Well, legally, anyway. I still say it’s rather unfair you didn’t have enough witnesses.”

“I had plenty of witnesses,” Toda snarled. “Cowardly, disloyal bastards lined up for the prosecution at the tribunal, didn’t they?”

“Toda says they made that rule of 200 up because of him. Oh, and that reminds me, Captain,” Miyamoto leaned in close enough to Byakuya that their shoulders touched, and whispered behind his hand, “As tempting as it might be, don’t call Toda ‘Kenpachi,’ even if he does technically deserve the title. It may seem like the sort of thing he’d be flattered by, but it’s what we call at this table ‘triggering.’ Of course, if you’re either hoping to die or are otherwise intentionally inciting his wrath, then by all means go ahead.”

“I will not make that mistake,” Byakuya assured him. He would also not say, though it was far more tempting, that there was only one Kenpachi and that this man was not him.

The other two shinigami at the table seemed disinterested by everything happening at the table, and instead stared off into space. They also appeared to be twins. Miyamoto introduced them simply as, “Thing One and Thing Two. Former Mayuri experiments. No one knows their real names and, well, they can’t exactly tell us anymore.”

“Ah,” Byakuya said uncomfortably.

“So that’s our little crew,” Miyamoto said pleasantly. “The good news is, the bosses are terrified of us, so we’re rarely expected to do much of the grunt work or KP duties. Last time they let me in the laundry room there was a minor explosion, chemicals are very dangerous in the wrong hands, you know. And then there was the time when they thought it was a good idea to give Toda a mop. I’m not even sure if the guards are back up to full capacity after that one yet…” Miyamoto smiled happily at the memory. “More tea, Captain?”

“Yes, thank you,” Byakuya said. “But I assure you, I’m only here for three weeks.”

Miyamoto chuckled as he poured the tea. “Oh, that’s so cute. But it’s going to get very tiresome, Captain. Perhaps you could just whisper such things to yourself? Toda has mostly learned to do that. It’s makes everyone’s day go so much smoother if we don’t have competing delusions, you understand. So, we’ve all agreed on one storyline, and it goes: we’re stuck in prison until one of us figures out how to kill everyone, excluding present company, and then we make the break together. Can you try that one on? Surely, it will fit into your sense of still being in the Gotei. Imagine us as your Division and all these others as Hollows or some other enemy, could you not?”

Not knowing what else to say to that, Byakuya nodded, “Yes, of course.”

“Then there’s the matter of rank, Captain. I don’t expect you to accept a demotion,” Miyamoto purred. “So, I’m afraid you’ll have to allow me the place of Captain-Commander.”

“I see,” Byakuya said, really wishing he could convince these people that he was not part of their group. Clearly, however, the more he protested, the more crazy he seemed. “Very well.”

#

Renji was headed to the practice yard when Aio waved him over to the sidelines. “Hey, you,” he said, giving her a warm smile. “What brings you over here?”

She blushed prettily and ducked her head. “The young master asks the Division’s captain to attend him in the library.”

That sounded formal as hell, but Renji figured Shinobu was probably just testing out how all this worked. Renji was tempted to tell Aio that she could tell the heir he’d be right over after he ran the squad through a few exercises, but decided to treat this the way he would if it were Byakuya. “Yeah, hang on.” With a wave at Kinjo, Renji said, “Oi, take over for me for ten minutes, would you?”

“Right-o, boss,” Kinjo shouted back.

‘Boss,’ huh? Okay, well, at least that response was no more irritating than usual. “You’re still a dick, Kinjo.”

Kinjo laughed. “I suppose you’re going to go and put that in my official jacket now, eh, Acting-Captain-sir?”

“Dude, it’s already there.”

With that, Renji followed Aio to the back door that led to the estate. It was weird to go back through the familiar doors into the winter-worn garden and know he wasn’t going to see Byakuya.

Renji hated to admit it, but he’d been trying not to think about Byakuya at all. Yesterday had been so… fucked-up. He’d gone into the Maggot’s Nest on the fly, with no real sense of what he’d hoped to accomplish. Then, he’d been so thrown by how much Byakuya looked like Rukia with short hair….

Yeah, no, he’d come back from that determined to train until he couldn’t see straight, fall into bed, and think about that later, or never, whichever came first.

Thank gods that doofus-ass Ōmaeda had been so keen get on the Kuchiki’s good side that he’d actually pulled off getting them out of there without Soi Fon ever finding out. He’d bribed that creepy warden into silence, too. With luck, there wouldn’t be an official fall out.

But, unofficially…?

He still couldn’t get the image of Byakuya out of his head. It was always disconcerting to see him looking so vulnerable without the kenseikan, but that over-sized uniform he’d been in made him seem almost child-like. The haircut hadn’t helped matters. Renji wasn’t necessarily overly attached to Byakuya’s hair, but it had been a shock. It had added to that sense of Byakuya looking kind of lost and… small. 

‘Small’ and ‘vulnerable’ were the very last words Renji would ever use to describe Byakuya. And, seeing him like that had made him unable to deal.

Kicking off his sandals, Renji followed Aio to the library. He found Shinobu tucked under the kotatsu and then nearly choked to see the kenseikan. The bone-white hairpiece was almost lost in the boy’s soft brown curls and there was something wrong with it. The cone-shapes that had been so prominent when Byakuya had worn it seemed to have flattened out and merged together. It looked like it had melted a little or mutated into… an off-center bone skullcap with hair growing through it. Honestly, it looked like it was trying to become part of Shinobu’s body in a very creepy way. “What the…? What happened to the kenseikan?”

Shinobu reached up as though to touch it, but pulled away like it was hot. “Byakuya-sama said this might happen. I couldn’t get it out last night and this morning, it had changed.”

Even though he hadn’t been invited to, Renji tucked himself under the comforter opposite the heir. “It’s supposed to look like that?” 

“Apparently so,” Shinobu said. “Byakuya-sama said that the Hollow bone is still alive and that it moulds to fit each Kuchiki that wears it.”

Huh. No wonder it always made Byakuya look so good. It literally had shaped itself to fit him. “So it’s responding to your reiatsu?”

Shinobu shrugged. “I guess…? Honestly, it kind of freaks me out.”

Renji nodded. He’d never actually considered the implications of the fact that something must be keeping the part of the kenseikan that was Hollow bone alive, but something must be. After all, Hollows disintegrated when you broke their mask otherwise. Of course, this begged the question did the kenseikan forger harvest the bone from a captured Hollow that was still alive or was there some complex magic that went into trapping some of its soul in whatever kind of perpetual state of being that kept it from turning to dust?

“Um, I suppose we should get to the matter of why I called you here, Acting-Captain,” Shinobu said somewhat uncertainly.

Renji waited patiently. It was clear Shinobu was feeling out how this should go, the whole being clan head thing. It was kind of cute. Renji only hoped the kid wouldn’t ask for anything impossible.

“Have you seen our cousin? How is he? Is there anything he needs?”

Oh. Renji had been ready for just about anything other than a personal question. “Uh, well, I guess he was alright when I saw him. I mean, he’d only been inside for a few hours, if that. He… um, well, they cut his hair.”

Shinobu’s hands flew up to cover his face. His eyes went wide and he gasped, “Oh no!”

That reaction, so honest and so un-Kuchiki like, caused everything Renji had been refusing to feel to come crashing up. Zabimaru let out a mournful howl and Renji sucked in a ragged breath. He put his face in his hands and muttered, “I just hate seeing him there, like that. I wish there was something I could do. I mean, I tried, but he doesn’t want to be moved, and, fuck, I don’t know what that room is like, I never saw it, so maybe it would be worse, being all alone… ”

“What room?” Shinobu asked.

Renji glanced up. Should he tell? Or was this a secret he was supposed to keep for Byakuya? “When my brother was in the Maggot’s Nest, Byakuya bought him a private suite,” Renji said, figuring that a mostly-truth was probably best. “I tried to arrange the same thing, but Byakuya for some pig-headed reason wanted to stay in general population. I think he’s off his rocker, because fuck if I’d want to stay there--oh, pardon my French.”

Shinobu waved off Renji’s concern. “I grew up around farmers in the Rukongai. I have heard a few swear words, Acting-Captain.”

Renji nodded, wishing there was tea. He felt kind of awkward just sitting there and he found that he was uncomfortable enough that he kind of clasped and unclasped his hands. 

“I know nothing of prison, however,” Shinobu admitted. He glanced at Renji as if hoping for enlightenment.

“I only just visited the Maggot’s Nest for the first time in my life yesterday,” Renji said shaking his head. “The Abarai that knows from prisons is my brother, Seichi.”

“Oh, excellent!” Shinobu said. “Then we must have you both for dinner! Please, Acting-Captain, you and your brother must come for dinner tonight.”

Great. Renji thought, because that won’t be awkward. 

#

When Byakuya returned to his cell, it looked as though it was empty. Ten was still off somewhere, it seemed. Closing his eyes, Byakuya lay down on his cot, thinking to try to catch up on his sleep. 

There was a sound of rustling above. Byakuya opened his eyes to see Ten’s head dangling over the edge, upside down, staring at him. “You need learn how to lie, Captain.”

“Indeed?” Byakuya folded his hands on his chest. “Should I have been a traitor or a deserter?”

“Deserter,” Ten said without a moment’s hesitation. “Despite what is said about them, they’re not cowards. They’re really strong and stick together. Weirdly lawful, too, for guys that broke the law. They’ll defend us non-com, too.”

“Non-com?”

“Non-commissioned officers,” Ten chuckled a little, still hanging upside down. “That’s what Adachi calls all of us, even if we never even saw the inside of Academy. He says the Gotei only puts strong ones in here; and strong ones would have been officers.”

“He’s not wrong,” Byakuya said. Then, though perhaps it was obvious, he added, “You admire him, this Deserter.”

“Don’t say it like that, like it’s something dirty, until you know.” Ten’s frown looked very awkward, almost laughable upside down. “You should ask him why he’s here. You should ask any of them.”

All Byakuya felt he needed to know was that this Adachi had abandoned his post, his subordinates, and, worse, he’d defied his commander. “And the Traitors, are their stories as good?” Byakuya wondered, considering his own traitorous moments.

“Some. But the ones here, they’re…” Ten shrugged, “...proud? They strut around in their uniforms like they’re better than everyone else because they made some kind of stand. They still use their ranks when they talk to each other, like they’re still in the Gotei. They don’t see the rest of us as potential or missed soldiers. They don’t really see us at all, except as obstacles or targets for bullying.”

“And the Insane?”

Ten’s head disappeared from view. “They’re the worst. They’re predators--the kind that will nab you in the dark and fuck you up for fun. And now you’re one of them, Captain. Congratulations.”


End file.
